


As Luck Would Have It

by KayLingLing7



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Bertl and Annie are bartenders, Bus AU, College AU, Drunk Sex, Film Student AU, Fluff and Smut, Gay Bar, Gay Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, POV Alternating, Past Levi/Petra, Smut, Student Film, bookstore worker Marco, film student Jean, most of the other characters are film students as well, side Levi/Erwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco recently finished studying and is now living in an apartment in town with his childhood friend, working at a bookshop downtown while he figures out what exactly it is he wants to do with his degree. Jean is a film student downtown, and one of his favourite pass times is people watching – which is what he likes to do on the bus every morning, when he notices Marco on the same bus as him. </p><p>As one coincidence turns to another, two strangers are pushed together... more than once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Luck Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> So when I first had the idea for this fic it was meant to be a bus AU about two strangers interacting on the bus... Except when I actually started writing it just kind of exploded to life and this happened. 
> 
> Shout out to [Axelfield](http://axefieldlikesbuttsmutt.tumblr.com) for listening to me as I planned out the story, [needs-more-desu](http://needs-more-desu.tumblr.com) for beta'ing this first chapter, and [crazy-little-nerd](http://crazy-little-nerd.tumblr.com) for all their lovely comments lately, which motivated me to finally finish off this chapter and post it.

Taking the bus was a just another monotonous part of Jean's daily routine.

He took the bus every single goddamn day. Or, more specifically, he took two buses: one 30-minute trip from his quiet little suburb 20 minutes out of town, and a second bus from the main city hub to his campus. Twice a day, morning and night. He'd been taking the bus for over a year now, and while sweaty strangers uncomfortably near him was not something Jean particularly enjoyed, he didn't really dislike his bus trips. The almost-hour into town in the mornings and out again in the evenings gave him time to be still and think - time he could use to plan his day, contemplate the latest film he had watched, or work out the kinks in the latest storyline he was concocting. He liked to get a window seat near the back of the bus, his headphones in and his backpack on his lap, and people watch. Jean liked to think he was the kind of person that could find enjoyment in the little things in life.

There were a few regulars on the small 40-seater he took from the city hub to his campus in downtown Trost. The old woman that always somehow managed to wear some form of velvet on her outfit, even in the middle of summer, wearing a velvet hat today. The woman with bright turquoise hair (two weeks ago it had been a shocking shade of flamingo pink), two seats in front of him, chewing gum as she stared out the window through large, round sunglasses. And finally, the last regular on the bus - the tall freckled guy. 

Jean watched him from the corner of his eye. Broad shouldered and tanned skin with freckles all over his face, an undercut with the long part of his hair split in a path down the middle. Jean had first noticed this guy on the same bus as him two weeks or so ago. He always stood, even when there were open seats, one arm wrapped around one of the yellow poles to keep his balance as he read whatever book he was working his way through, earplugs in his ears listening to whatever music was playing from the depths of his baggy turquoise hoodie. Jean noticed that today it was The Hobbit. Not one of the new versions with the movie poster on the front cover, but an old ratty paperback that was probably printed back in the 80s. Jean suppressed a smile; the book had been one of his favourites as a child.

Jean tore his eyes away from the stranger and glanced down at his phone. It was almost 9 and there were still two stops before his own - he was going to be late for his first lecture of the day. Jean was a film student at a private film school in downtown Trost, majoring in camera work with a side major in directing, although he enjoyed editing work as well (he absolutely detested producing, but who didn't?). Being in second year now, work had gotten a lot more complicated than the simple one-minute shorts they had filmed in first year, and missing classes was a big no-no. He scratched at the blonde hair atop his head. At least today's first lecture was Script Writing - if he had been late to Producing he would never hear the end of it. Plus Script Writing was relatively straight forward; he probably wouldn't be missing much.

With a resigned sigh Jean hunched further into his seat, his arms crossing over his bag as he stared out the window, contemplating today's to-do list. All he really wanted to do was get through his 3 lectures today, have a production meeting with Armin, and get back home before the evening bus rush-hour hit so he could catch up on the latest Game of Thrones. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long day.

* * *

Marco enjoyed his new routine.

He had just moved to this side of town, having decided to rent a small apartment with his best friend from high school, and with the move came new surroundings, new people, and a new job. 

Every morning he would wake up at 6 and read in bed for half an hour. Marco had always been a firm believer in starting the day off well, and what other way to start off than to read a good book? He also read for half an hour before going to sleep. And a further 40 minutes of reading on the bus in the morning, and the evening, plus the time it took waiting for the bus to arrive.

Marco _really_ enjoyed reading.

So it wasn't that big of a surprise that he worked in a book store. After his morning reading he would get up, feed the cat (a large fluffy black and white beast by the name of Mr. Mistoffelees), feed himself, and make sure his roommate was home. Then he would take a shower, change into some combination of jeans, a tshirt and a bright coloured hoodie, and make his way to the bus stop. 

The apartment they were renting was in a really nice part of town, right up on the slope of the mountain Trost had been built against, and was well sought after by students and young career-makers alike. The houses were small and old, with narrow, steep roads with too many one-ways to count, but its nearness to the most popular party street in town meant many young millennials had decided to call this part of town their home. Gentrification run amok on the streets, sign poles covered in crocheted doilies and stickers stuck to every electrical box and stop sign. Marco loved it. 

Really, Marco was thankful for Bertholdt (his roommate's) wonderfully eccentric aunt, who had lived in this area for years before deciding she wanted to spend her 50s in the jungles of Southern America. She had graciously decided to rent the small apartment to her nephew and his childhood friend, both fresh out of college and looking for somewhere to live that wasn't their parents' spare rooms, in exchange that they looked after her home, along with her ridiculous amount of potted plants and her large indoor cat. They had both readily agreed. 

Marco and Bertholdt moved into the apartment in Stohess, from which both boys were able to take the bus to their respective jobs as they figured out what it was exactly they planned to do with their lives. Bertholdt had gotten a job in a nearby gay bar, the Rose Court, as a bouncer-slash-bartender, which meant he worked in the evening and late into the night. Bertholdt was a shy and nervous person by nature, but his height and build made him intimidating enough to pull off the job of being a bouncer quite well, and so far he hadn't had many complaints. Marco, on the other hand, had gotten himself a job at the Lounge, a large and popular book shop downtown where many book readings and signings were held. Truth be told, it was Marco's dream job - spending his days in a old yet stylish bookshop every day, helping people with their selections, and getting paid for it, to boot.

And so it was that he was on the bus now, having taken the Stohess bus from home to the city hub, and then the Karanese bus from the city into downtown, where the bus conveniently stopped only a block away from the book store. Marco looked up from his book (an old hand-me-down of the Hobbit that he'd inherited from him father), to take in his surroundings - just to make sure he hadn't missed his stop. By the looks of it there were two stops left before his, so he settled back down against the pole he was leaning on, only to catch sight of a boy at the back of the bus. 

The boy was slightly younger than him, probably still a student, with a dark undercut topped with bleach-blond hair. He had a very angular face and thick, dark eyebrows creased over angular eyes the colour of honey. Marco admired the boy's striking features for a moment, envious of the stranger's angular cheekbones when Marco himself had always been quite rounded and broad; admired the pale and flawless skin, so unlike Marco’s own freckled and spotty exterior. Marco sighed and shook his head, turning back to his book. Best to stop eyeing the stranger now before the other boy noticed him, he decided, as he turned to the next page.

* * *

Jean pressed the stop button as soon as the bus pulled away from the stop just before his own, creating a buzzing noise that alerting the driver that a passenger wanted to get off, switching on a red light above the driver's head. Jean immediately went about busying himself to get off, sticking his phone in his pocket and grabbing his bus card from his bag. He was trying really hard to make it obvious to the man sitting next to him that he was about to get off, but it didn't look like the man was taking any of his hints, simply staring off into the distance in a dazed state. Jean sighed.

The bus rolled to a stop and Jean stood up, pushing his way through the narrow space between the man next to him's legs and the back of the seat in front of them. The man finally seemed to realize what was happening and let out a quick apology, moving just enough that Jean managed to break through with a huff. He rushed to the front of the bus, where the freckled stranger was already tapping his card out, his ratty book tucked under one arm. 

“Thank you Driver!” the freckled guy called out with a wide smile before departing off the bus. Jean quickly tapped out after him, muttering a quick thank you to the driver himself as he took in the time on the tap-out screen (9:15 - he was so fucking late), and dashed out of the bus, turning left as the freckled stranger continued straight.

Jean sometimes wondered about what the stranger did with his day, after they got off the bus and they split ways. He wondered it about all the bus regulars - what kind of job did the lady with the velvet do, for instance? The freckled guy though, he was the one Jean thought about most, because he was the only regular that got off at the same stop as him. Sometimes Jean would wonder it as he walked to campus, trying to think of possible jobs the guy might have in that direction. There was a small hipster cafe pretty close to the bus stop, and a vegan pizza place. Either of those would be a possible fit for the freckled stranger. There was also a tattoo parlour and a car mechanic, although Jean highly doubted the guy worked at either of those. Hell, there were probably thousands of businesses in this area he didn't even know about, on the higher floors of old Victorian and timber-framed buildings, or back rooms in the concrete blocks that somehow passed off as architecture in the 70s.

Jean shook his head, focusing his attention back to hurrying to class. He was almost on his campus when he passed the small hole-in-the-wall cafe that stood right outside his school building, and came to a halt.

Jean bit his lip, looking down at the time on his phone. He hadn't had his coffee yet today, and it was so hard to concentrate without some caffeine in his system... But he was already 20 minutes late...

He looked between the coffee shop and his phone a few times, contemplating, before finally sighing, his decision made. _I'm already 20 minutes late_ , he thought as he took a resolute step towards the cafe's door. _What's another 5 more?_

* * *

The bell above the shop door jingled happily as Marco walked into the Lounge. "Morning, Petra!" He called out, already unzipping his hoodie as he made his way to the back room.

"Morning, Marco!" a call came in reply from across the store. "How are you this morning?"

"Good! Had a good bus trip, not too crowded. And you?" it wasn't abnormal for Marco and his manager to have a conversation across the store like this.

"Good! The kids didn't fight over breakfast for once, so that's a plus."

Marco quickly threw his hoodie into the staff room and grabbed an apron, tying it around his waist as he made his way towards Petra's voice. "That is a plus!" he laughed. "How did Michael's reading test go yesterday?"

Marco rounded the corner of a bookshelf and there Petra was, the short ginger-haired woman kneeling on the floor restocking shelves. She smiled up at him. "Good! He went up a reading level!"

"That's excellent!" Marco beamed, kneeling down to give her a hand with the books. "And where is Levi today? Is he going to be in?"

"Oh, he's around," Petra replied, nodding. "I think he went upstairs to clean out the coffee machine. You know how he is with that damn thing."

Marco nodded in understanding. Petra and Levi were the owners of the Lounge, and had bought the bookshop together when they had gotten married, almost 10 years ago. Although they had since gotten divorced, they worked well as a team, and had a good relationship both as business partners and as parents to two beautiful children. He didn't know the details of the divorce, having only worked at the store for half a month, but he admired the way they could still work together so well; the way Petra could tease Levi for his obsession with cleaning, and he could tease her for her awful bookkeeping skills.

Petra and Marco finish up restocking the shelves, Marco picking up the now empty boxes to carry back into the staff room. Once he'd been relieved of them he went to take charge of the cashier as Petra went about her morning routine of organizing and cleaning up the store - a task that would no doubt be redone by Levi as soon as he was done in the café.

"So, Marco, got any plans for tonight?" Petra calls from close by, her ginger head of hair hidden by the shelves taller than herself. The shop is still empty, but it's not unusual for them to have an empty floor on weekday mornings. 

"Nothing much." Marco called back, fiddling with the displays next to the cashier. "And you?"

Petra appears from behind one of the nearby shelves, grinning brightly. "I," she beams, "have a date!"

"Really?" Marco breaks out into a broad smile. "With who?"

“You know Mr. Bossard? Comes here during his lunch break every day? Yesterday he was buying a book and he asked me out.” Petra giggled. “Well, that makes it sound like it was coherent. He basically shouted ‘will you go date with me’ and was already half-way to the door before I could say yes.”

Marco laughed. “Really? Oh, that’s adorable! So where are you going?”

Petra smiled. “A French restaurant near the harbour, I think? It sounds quite fancy.”

“I doubt it’s a very good restaurant, with that man’s poor taste. 3 sachets of sugar in his coffee, with half milk. You can’t trust a man who drinks shitty coffee, Petra.”

Both Petra and Marco turn to see Levi coming down the stairs, a dishcloth in his hands. He glares down at them from his added height on the 5th step, polishing the metal railing next to him. 

Marco feels a bit nervous, worried he’s intruding on a conversation that should perhaps be had privately between the once-married business partners, but Petra quickly shuts his nerves down.

“Oh, shush, you old man. You’re just upset because I get to go out tonight while you’re stuck with the kids for once.” Petra smirked up at Levi. “Just because I got asked out before you did.”

Levi scowled down at the hand-rail, rubbing at it furiously. “Well that shitty old man almost asked me out yesterday, but chickened out last minute. At this rate I might have to be the one that makes the first move.”

Marco’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Shitty old man? 

Petra must have noticed his expression, giggling before she decided to explain, “Levi’s been eyeing a man that comes in to get coffee every evening. A tall blond guy with really thick eyebrows. What was his name again, Levi? Aaron?”

“Erwin.” Levi answered quickly, still glaring down at a specific spot on the hand-rail. “He comes in every night, orders a black coffee, stares at my ass the whole time I work at the machine, and then leaves me a huge tip... I’m going to need to get some disinfectant to clean this spot.” He stomps down the last few steps passed them and into the staff room. 

“Levi is convinced he’ll be able to get himself a nice sugar daddy one of these days.” Petra says in the same tone of voice any sane person would comment on how nice the weather is, following Levi into the staff room. Marco can only stare after them in silent awe.

That was... different. With a shake of his head Marco turned back to the cash register in front of him, pulling out a feather duster from under the counter to dust the desk display in front of him. 

* * *

Jean rounds the corner onto his campus, a coffee in each hand, only to see members of his class standing around the entrance of building A, smoking or eating, but mostly just talking shit. Almost immediately after Jean came into sight of the entrance, a short boy with a mess of brunette hair whirled around, eyeing him with large turquoise eyes, a smirk on his face.

“Well, look who finally decided to pitch! Half an hour late with a Starbucks!”

Jean rolled his eyes, putting on a high-pitched voice, “like, _ummm_ , it’s not a _Starbucks_ , it’s actual _real_ coffee.”

Eren throws back his head to laugh, breaching the distance between them to slap a hand against Jean’s shoulder – gently, though, so as not to spill. “I hope that second cup is for me. You’re so sweet.”

Jean snorted. People around them where heading back into the building, so Jean follows, Eren in tow. “Hell no, I’m not spending my money on you. This is bribery coffee.”

“Bribery coffee?” Eren echoes, following Jean through the door into their lecture room.

Nanaba was standing in the darkened lecture hall, in front of the projection screen, waiting patiently for her students to sit down and shut up. She glances at the door and sees Jean there, and frowns.

“You weren’t in my class earlier, Kirchstein.”

“No, ma’am, I was not,” Jean replies, walking up to her. He held out the second cup of coffee, his best smile on his face. “My bus was late, I’m really sorry for my tardiness.”

Nanaba cocked an eyebrow, glancing between Jean and the coffee. “One sugar, no milk?”

“Of course.”

“Mm.” Nanaba hummed, taking the coffee from Jean’s outstretched hand. “I suppose you’ve been forgiven then. Sign the register.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Jean quickly signed the register before taking a seat next to Eren, a smug smirk on his face as he sipped at his own coffee.

“Ass-kisser,” Eren mutters under his breath next to him. Jean tries his best not to laugh.

* * *

Marco goes about his day in the bookshop, manning the cashier, taking phone calls, chatting to anyone who came into the store – normal, uncomplicated. It’s only around 2:30 that anything out of the ordinary happens, which comes in the form of a phone call from Bertholdt.

Marco knows that Bertholdt has a fear of phone calls and only makes a call when he really needs something, so Marco knows it must be urgent. He excuses himself from the main floor with a gesture of apology to Petra and hurries into the staff room, phone in hand. 

“Hello?”

_“Marco!”_

Bertholdt sounds frantic on the line. Marco’s brows furrow in concern. 

“Yeah? What’s up, Bert, you okay?”

_“I- Yeah, Marco, shit. Today at work they’re doing this thing, right? And they told all the employees to bring people in, and I completely forgot, an—”_

“Bert. You’re rambling.”

 _“Oh. Sorry.”_ Marco could hear Bertholdt taking in a shaky inhale, letting out a long exhale moments later, before he continues talking. When he does, he is much less frantic and much easier to understand, _“so at the bar tonight they’re having some sort of event, and they need a bunch of people to be there, so we’re each suppose to invite friends to come to the bar. Except I completely forgot. Can you come, please?”_

“Oh, yeah, sure. What kind of event is it?”

_“I don’t know. I just guard the doors and pour the drinks.”_

Marco smiled. “Fair enough. Look, I finish at 8 today. I’ll take the bus home, take a shower, eat something, and then go over to the bar, okay? I’ll probably only be there around 10 though.”

Bertholdt let out a relieved sigh. _“That’s completely fine! Thank you! I’ll see you later.”_

“Yeah, later. Bye.”

_“Bye.”_

The line goes dead. Marco takes his phone down from his ear and stares at it for a second before letting out a short laugh. Bertholdt and his emergencies. 

With an amused shake of his head Marco opens the staff room door and goes back to work.

* * *

Classes that day for Jean were, for once, relatively painless, and he managed to get through all of them without falling asleep, which might have been a new record. Now all he had to do was get though this production meeting with Armin and he could finally go home and get to that Game of Thrones episode he’s been avoiding spoilers for all morning.

They were having the meeting in the resource centre, and when Jean walks into the room Eren was already there, sitting at one of the round tables with notes and a laptop spread out atop it.

Eren looked up at Jean’s approach– Jean sometimes wonders if Eren has some sort of sixth sense that alerts him to Jean’s presence. “I was just about to text you. Check this out!” Eren thrusts his phone out into Jean’s face. Jean has to grab his wrist to keep the phone steady enough to read the screen. It’s a bright pink and black digital pamphlet, advertising—

Jean squints. “Movie bar quiz?” he reads out loud.

“Yeah!” Eren takes his phone back, looking at the screen himself. “It’s at that one gay bar, Rose Quartz? Winners get free drinks.”

“Oh-kay,” Jean draws out, sitting down next to Eren, scooting some of the notes out of his way so he can set up his laptop. “Any you’re telling me this why?”

Eren glares at Jean. “Dude. We’re going to this quiz night.”

“What? No. Why?”

“Because, dude. We’re fucking _film_ students. At a movie quiz. _Free drinks_ , man.”

Jean couldn’t argue that logic.

“Ugh. Fine. When is it?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight??” Jean all but shouted. People sitting nearby shushed him, for which quickly apologised, turning back to Eren to talk in a hushed shout, “dude, what the fuck?”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Chill! It’s not like you have a curfew or anything. You can sleep at my flat tonight, it’s fine.” Eren paused, before a smirk formed on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “unless you end up going home with someone else.”

Jean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Right.” He sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll come to this stupid quiz. But if we don’t win, you’re paying for all my drinks.”

Eren squints at Jean for a long moment before shrugging. “Okay. Fine. Deal.”

“What’s a deal?”

At the sound of a feminine voice both boys look up from their table to see Sasha had bounded over, leaning over one of the empty chairs at the table. Connie was close behind her, as was normal, carrying both their bags.

Eren smiled in greeting at them. “Jean and I are doing a movie quiz at a gay bar tonight.”

“Oh!” Sasha gasped, falling into the chair she was leaning on. “That sounds fun! I want to join!”

“Me too!” Connie chirped up, taking the seat next to Sasha.

Jean raised an eyebrow. “You guys want to join a movie quiz at a gay bar?”

“Hey, I can be gay!”

“Me too!” Connie echoed.

Jean snorted. “I mean the part about the movie quiz. You guys suck at trivia.”

“Do not!” Sasha cried indignantly. She got shushed by people around then, but ignored them.

“Oh yeah?” Eren raises an eyebrow. “What year did Titanic come out?”

“Oh, I know this one – 2003!”

“1912!”

Jean slapped a hand over his face; Eren groaned. “You guys are useless!” they both exclaim in unison. 

* * *

“Marco! _Pst_ , Marco!”

Marco looks up from his book behind the counter (one of the many perks of working at a book shop – not being reprimanded for reading on the job), to see Petra peaking from behind one of the shelves, making “come here” gestures with her hands. Marco cocks an eyebrow but puts a bookmark in his book, getting up to go to her.

“What?” he asks in a whisper, kneeling slightly to be at her height.

Petra makes a frantic gesture up the stairs, towards the cafe. “Look! There he is!”

“Who?” Marco squints, trying to figure out who they’re talking about. He can vaguely see a tall blond man leaning over the barista counter through the balustrade.

“Levi’s sugar daddy, Aaron.” Petra stage-whispers back to him.

“Oh!” Marco immediately stood on his toes, trying to see if he could get a better view of the guy upstairs, bobbing his head sideways, up and down. “Is it the blond man at the counter?”

“Yes! But stop it, you’re being too obvious!” Petra hissed at him, hitting his arm repeatedly. “Just go back to work and keep an eye out for when he lea- shoot, he’s coming down already!”

Petra grabs the sleeve of Marco’s shirt and drags him behind one of the nearby book shelves, where they immediately poking their heads back out to watch the man walk down the stairs. Marco had to give Levi some credit for his taste in men – the stranger is not by any means sore on the eyes. Over all, he looked like something between a model and a military sergeant, with blond hair gelled to the sides neatly (Marco finds the hairstyle a bit stiff, but thinks Levi probably appreciates the neatness of it), thick eyebrows over piercing blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a muscular physique. He’s wearing a light blue dress shirt that compliments his eyes – eyes that are glued to his takeaway coffee cup, a small smile on his face with just the slightest of blushes dusted over his sharp cheekbones. 

“Levi has good tastes.” Marco whispers in awe to Petra as the blond steps off the stairs and towards the door.

“Hmm, Levi has really high standards when it comes to partners. It’s why we were together for so long. It’s also why we ended up getting a divorce.” Petra says this while watching the blond walk away. She says it with no bitterness, not even with any sadness, and again Marco has to wonder about Levi and Petra’s relationship.

Marco wonders, but it’s not his place to ask. So instead he changes the topic.

“So hey, when’s that date of yours happening?” he asks, both of them straightening up form their hiding place as the bell above the door announcing the blond stranger’s departure.

Petra brightened up next to him, a small smile forming on her face. “Oh! At 7 tonight!” she looks over at Marco, her smile turning apologetic. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to close up alone with Levi today, I hope that’s alright.”

“Hey, dipshits.”

Petra and Marco swing around to look upstairs once again, where Levi was leaning against the railing staring down at them, a glare on his face.

“It’s not very nice to call your ex-wife or your completely competent employee dipshits, Levi!” Petra called out to him in reprimand.

Marco raises an eyebrow at the comment – you can’t call _competent_ employees dipshits? He wonders if this has anything to do with why they hired him so quickly.

“I am allowed to call you dipshits when you are being dipshits. Were you seriously just spying on Erwin just now?”Levi asked, cocking an eyebrow in a way that could only be called menacing.

Petra at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed about spying on the blond. “Ah... yeah, you’ve got us there...” Marco could see Levi rolling his eyes even from the great distance between them. “So! Did he ask you out yet or not?”

Levi leaned forwards, crossing his arms over the banister, a smirk forming on his face. “Well, for your information,” he said, drawing out the words, “I finally took it upon myself to make the first move and wrote my number on his cup.”

Levi was barely done talking before Petra was squealing next to Marco, clapping her hands together. Marco flinched away from her in surprise. “Ah! Levi! That’s great! Marco!” Petra turned to him, a bright smile on her face, “wasn’t he staring at his cup as he was walking down? With a goofy smile on his face?” before Marco could even reply she was turning back to Levi, “He was totally over the moon about your number!” she called up to her ex-husband, radiating glee.

Even from the distance Marco could hear Levi clicking his tongue, but he looked pleased at the information. “So, what time is this date of yours, Petra?”

“Oh! It’s at seven!” Petra took out her phone to check the time. “Looks like I’m going to have to leave soon to get home in time to get ready.” She looked back up at Levi. “You know what time to pick up the kids, right? And-”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Yes, Petra, they’re my brats as much as they are yours. Fetch them from Hanji at 8:30. Make sure they’re clean. Get them to bed by 9:30.”

Petra sighed, shaking her head, but Marco could see a small smile on her face. “Okay, well, I’m going now. Marco,” she turned to him then, and he straightened up, standing to attention. She smiled up at him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Marco broke into a smile. “See you, Petra. Good luck on your date.”

“Good luck with Levi.” 

Marco looked back up to where Levi was still perched again the balustrade, and was startled to see Levi already looking at him, a calculating look on his face. 

Marco gulped, turning to go back to the register. Hopefully he’d survive closing without Petra there.

* * *

After their production meeting Jean spent the afternoon at Eren’s (or really, Eren and Eren’s sister Mikasa’s) apartment, and thankfully he was finally able to watch the Game of Thrones episode he had been craving all day. Around seven they left the apartment and walked to a nearby pizza place, where Sasha and Connie met up with them, persistent in their efforts to participate in this damn bar quiz. Even Armin was going to be coming with them, although he was planning on coming later once he was done with some stuff he needed to work on for his film, and was going to bring Mikasa along with him.

Connie and Sasha spent the whole of dinner trying to learnt as much movie trivia as possible, playing internet quizzes on their phones; sometimes they even managed to get two out of ten questions right. Jean was nearly ready to pull his hair out by the time they had finished eating and were on their way to the bar, only a few blocks down from the restaurant they had frequented. 

The outside of the bar was nothing special – a brick block of a building painted a dark grey, a large neon-pink sign above the door, with a little rainbow flag sticker in one of the blacked-out windows. There wasn’t a crowd outside, thank God, but that might have had to do with the fact that it was 9pm on a Monday.

The inside of the bar was much more crowded, however, with students and young people (mostly men, with a smattering of women) around the bar, sitting at tables, or lounging on couches in secluded corners. The decor was simple and some-what tasteful, with the same dark grey painted brick, the furniture matte black with the round tables and bar top glowing neon pink, illuminating the people near them. Music was playing at a level that was easy to talk over, and that’s what most people were doing –laughing, talking and drinking. 

“Awesome, the quiz hasn’t started!” Eren exclaimed, ushering them all the a long black table near one of the walls, where other people had amassed, pamphlets around them, undoubtedly waiting for this quiz to start as well. “I’m going to get something to drink. Anyone else?” 

“Just beer.” Jean replied, sitting town at the table.

“You’re so boring, Jean! I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri!” Sasha shouted, taking a seat next to Jean.

“Cool. Connie?”

“Uh...” Connie replied, also sitting down. “Piña colada, if you will.”

Eren and Jean share a look for a moment before Eren turns away. “Oh kay. Cool. I’ll be right back.”

Jean turns to Connie. “Do you actually drink piña coladas or are you just getting it because of that one song?”

Without even having to look at each other Connie and Sasha both burst into said song at full volume. Jean groans and bangs his forehead against the table. Why was he stuck with these people?

Thankfully Eren was back with their drinks relatively quickly, as Jean felt like he had never needed a beer as badly as he did right that second. He dropped the bottle into Jean’s awaiting hands, fishing out his phone straight away. “Looks like Armin and ‘Kasa will be here in 5 minutes,” he said, taking a seat next to Jean.

Jean gave a grunt in reply, in the process of opening his beer and taking the first swig of it when the lights around their table came up, the music growing softer.

“It’s starting!” Sasha buzzed next to him.

At the bottom end of the very long table they were sitting at a large blond man stood up, proceeding to get up and stand on the table, towering over everyone. Jean did a quick up-and-down of the guy – he was huge, muscles on muscles, with short cropped hair and the thinnest eyebrows Jean had ever seen on a man, making him wonder if he had lost some sort of bet. When the man talked, his voice was big and booming, loud enough to be heard over the general bar-sounds without a microphone. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Rose Quartz first ever Quiz Night!” 

Some hollering and applause followed the announcement, mostly from the employees and some patrons that managed to already be drunk by 9pm. 

“Now, tonight’s quiz is movie themed, which means we’ve got a large selection of questions based off of all sorts of movie trivia. People can work alone or in pairs. The top 3 winning teams or individuals will have drinks on the house the entirety of tonight, including any drinks they may have already had!” this was met with a much louder cheer than the first time. “Now, if you could go to my friend over there at the bar – yes, the lovely blonde woman who looks like she could kill a man with her right thumb alone – and please hand in the entry fee and get the quiz paper, we can begin within the next 15 minutes!”

Jean turned to Eren. “You didn’t mention there was an entry fee.”

Eren just rolled his eyes, clapping a hand to Jean’s shoulder – hard. “Relax, _nerd_ , I’ll pay for your entry. We’re going to win, anyway; we’ll get that money back.”

Eren got up and headed back to the bar, Sasha in tow. “She’s the one paying?” Jean asked Connie, cocking an eyebrow.

Connie gave a bad performance of looking offended. “Excuse me, but men don’t always have to pay! That’s so old-fashioned of you, Jean!”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. You used all your money at the pizza place, didn’t you?”

Connie visibly deflated. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I’ll pay her back with my next pay check.”

Jean rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his beer.

After a long moment Eren and Sasha come back, paper and pencils in hand. Eren sits down next to Jean again, putting the paper between them and writing both their names on the top.

“What do you want our team name to be?” Eren asks, and Jean can hear Sasha and Connie next to him already debating their own team name. 

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Why did I agree to come?” Jean takes another swig of his beer; there’s less than half left at this point, and he’s only had it for 5 minutes.

“Jean,” Eren turned to him, a frown on his face, eyes shining in the dim light. “Can you for once in your goddamn life stop acting like a jerk and try to have some fun without trying to prove that you’re too cool for it? Help me chose a name, or I’m calling us Handsome and Horse Face.”

Jean felt a flare of anger, followed by guilt, followed by panic mixed with anger. “Do not call us Handsome and Horse Face!” he growled in alarm, before sighs, and pushing his hair back out of his face. “Okay, okay, I’ll have fun. I’m sorry. Let’s think of a name that’s not... That.”

Eren rolled his eyes, but he’s smiling. “What, then, would you suggest?”

“Uh...” Jean raked his brains, trying to think of an interesting name – he’d never really been good at naming things. He stared down at his beer, swirling the contents in the bottle around as he thought.

“You guys still need a name?” Sasha asked from the other side of Jean, and when he looked around he was startled to find her leaning close over his shoulder, grinning at him.

“You guys have a name already?” Eren asked, leaning forwards to see her and Connie better.

“Yip!” Connie replied, smacking a hand down on the table. “Springles!”

Jean crinkled his nose. “Springles?”

“Springles!” Connie and Sasha replied in unison, gleefully. 

“What, what does that even mean?”

Sasha shrugged. “It’s like our names put together.” 

Jean tried to wrap his head around that, trying to combine their first names, and when that didn’t work, their surnames. He couldn’t figure it out. “Wha-“

“Anyway!” Connie interrupted. “You guys still need a name right? Sasha is boss at names.”

Sasha nodded her head sagely. “I can help you, young padiwans.”

“How do you guys quote movies all the time and still be so bad at movie trivia?” Eren asked with a raised brow.

“Do you want help or not?”

“Okay, fine, what should our name be?”

Sasha stared at them both for a long moment, her eyes slowly going squint. Jean was starting to feel uncomfortable by the time she straightened up, giving a loud shout of “Ah-hah!” that startled Jean. He tried to hide his jump.

“I know!” Sasha exclaimed. “Jean, your surname means cherry stone, right? And Eren Jager, like a jagerbomb? Okay so get this,” Sasha was practically vibrating with excitement at this point, “Cherrybomb!”

Eren and Jean both blink at Sasha for a moment, before turning to blink at each other. “That’s... that’s actually not that bad.” Eren eventually says begrudgingly. 

Jean nods. “Fuck, it’s better than Handsome and the Horse Face.”

Connie belches out a laugh. “What? That was the other option! Use Handsome and the Horse Face, forget Sasha’s thing!”

“Hey!” Sasha cries in indignation, turning around to swat at Connie’s bald head.

“No, nope, Cherrybomb is good,” Jean says, grabbing the pencil from Eren and writing it down on their paper. Eren simply let the pencil be taken from him, turning his attention to his phone.

“Oh! Armin and ‘Kasa are here!” Eren says, turning in his seat to try and spot their friends. He starts waving frantically – looks like he’s spotted them.

Within two minutes Armin and Mikasa are taking the empty seats besides Eren, Eren passing them the quiz paper he has already bought for them. They start up a conversation, Eren and Armin going to get more drinks for everyone, and by the time they get back the large blond man is on the table again, booming voice announcing the start of the quiz. 

The first few questions aren’t particularly hard – _“In Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, what was the name of the witch?”_ – before it steadily got harder, questions like, _“What was the first movie to ever be called a “blockbuster”?”_ and, _“What was Hitchcock’s first colour film?”_

Surprisingly, Jean and Eren don’t argue as much as one would expect them to. Jean is a huge fan of old thrillers, romances, and foreign films, while Eren has perfect recall on practically every good film since the 80s, and they both know a lot of general information from their Film Appreciation lectures. They can trust each other’s judgement, and agree on answers for films they both know.

At one point Jean looks over and notices Sasha and Connie are on their cellphones under the table, undoubtedly looking up answers for the quiz. Jean rolls his eyes, electing to ignore them – their film knowledge is bad enough that he thinks it’s best to just let them have this upper hand. As long as they don’t get caught he won’t think twice about it.

The quiz ends after 30 questions. Jean is confident that they did well – there’s only two or three answers that he feels unsure of, but three wrong out of 30 is still a good score. They all pass their papers to a waiter that walks past, before getting another round of drinks.

Armin and Mikasa are not big drinkers. Mikasa gets a glass of gin and tonic that will last her most of the night; Armin just gets a bottle of sparkling water, knowing that he has a lot of pre-production work for his upcoming film he needs to get done in the morning. Sasha and Connie keep getting their fruity cocktails, getting very drunk _very_ fast. Eren and Jean just keep drinking what they were drinking before, deciding they’ll spend their money on real drinks after they find out if they placed in the quiz or not.

They chat and joke for a while, the tallying of quiz marks taking about half an hour, and by the time the blond guy gets back onto his makeshift stage of a table Jean has had 3 beers. He’s not drunk yet, it takes a lot more than beer to get him drunk, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going – something that might be from the good company more than the drink itself.

The crowd gathers around the table as the blond guy clears his throat, a smirk on his angular face. “Alright, ladies and queens, I have the results of Rose Quartz’s first ever bar quiz right here!” he brandishes a piece of paper above his head and the crowd cheers. 

The man smiles at the crowd’s reaction and brings the paper up to his face. “Now, as we mentioned before, the three groups with the most correct answers get to have free drinks for the whole night. I’m not going to drag this out, but...”

Jean zones out as the man drags on, promotion the bar and some other events they have planned for the future, then going on to thank everyone for coming out tonight and participating, before finally getting down to the good stuff. Jean doesn’t hear who came in third, but perks up immediately at “...And our second place winners are... Team Cherrybomb!”

Eren grabs his shoulder and pulls him up, Sasha and Connie cheering louder than everyone. They get up and walk towards the bar. Behind them the announcer continues, “and finally! Our first place winners! Team... Mikasa and Armin!”

Eren and Jean share a startled look before they both throw their heads back in laughter. Of course two teams of film students would win a movie quiz.

* * *

Marco told Bertl he’d be at the bar around 10, but he only gets there around half past. Closing shop with Levi had been... different. Exhausting and terrifying and very awkward, with Marco not knowing what to say and wanting to do everything correctly – so of course he fucked everything up. If Levi didn’t think he was incompetent before, he did now.

Marco’s grateful for Bertl’s invitation to come out tonight, because he could _really_ use a drink. 

The bar is pretty crowded for a Monday – there’s a guy on a table to the side of the room, announcing something, and people cheering. Apparently Marco missed whatever the night’s event was, but at least he actually showed up. He sees Bertl standing behind the bar, talking to a group of people – looking nervous, as per usual. 

Marco finds a seat at the bar, keeping an eye on Bertl for when he’s free. Annie, the other bartender, spots Marco and comes over.

“Hey, Roommate.”

Marco smiles at her. “Hey, Ice Queen. So what happened tonight?”

Annie grabs a glass, immediately mixing Marco his regular order and sliding it across the bar to him. “We have a quiz thing. The top three teams won free drinks.” She rolls her eyes. “I think Reiner made it a bit too difficult, but the two top teams did really well.”

Marco cocks an eyebrow, a smile forming on his face. This is probably the most he’s ever heard Annie talk. “Oh, yeah? What kind of questions were they?”

“One of the questions was, _‘what is the name of the only horror movie ever to be nominated for a best film Oscar?’_ ” Marco made a face; Annie nodded in agreement. “Exactly.”

The conversation pretty much dies there, with Annie turning to help someone else. Marco takes a sip of his drink, glancing over to see if Bertl is done yet when the group in front of Bertl finally catch his eye. 

There were six people standing in front of the bar. A girl with brunette hair tied in a high ponytail was leaning over the bar, excitedly talking at Bertl, who was stepping back away from her nervously. Another bald man was acting just as animatedly as her, pumping his fist in the air. Marco couldn’t help grinning at his antics. 

The bald kid put his arm around the neck of a guy shorter than him, a boy with blond hair tied back in a stubby ponytail. He had a button-nose and big blue eyes – Marco couldn’t help thinking he was adorable. Besides the short blond kid was a woman that could very well have been a model – perfect pale skin, large dark eyes, and sleek black hair cut just above her shoulders. 

Marco’s eyes wondered to the last two people in the group, and his breath hitched in his throat.

The men he lays his eyes on are probably two of the most attractive people he has ever seen. The first one has huge beautiful green eyes, with dark flawless skin, thick eyebrows and messy brown hair. He’s grinning up at the guy next to him, who might be even more attractive, in a hipster-jerk kind of way (which, Marco will admit, is kind of his type). He’s got angular features, a blonde undercut, and gorgeous honey eyes. What really gets Marco’s blood pumping, however, is the man’s cocky grin, aimed at the brunet besides him. Marco finds that side-smirk so _fucking_ attractive he has to physically look away from the group, chugging back his drink. 

Annie catches his eye and smirks. She walks up and takes his empty glass from him, filling it up again. Marco sighs.

Annie hands his glass back to him and he thanks her with a nod of his head before glancing back at the group. Bertl has poured the six of them shots now, and Marco watches as they take their shots... Except he’s not really watching _them_ , he’s watching _him_ \- the gorgeous blond guy. He watches the man chug back the shot, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows the drink, and when he brings the glass down onto the counter again, roughly. As he does, his eyes fixate directly on Marco, and for some reason he looks surprised for a second, before a smirk forms on his face – and _fuck_ , if that smirk was hot before it’s even hotter now, actually aimed directly at him. Marco can physically feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and has to break away from the stranger’s gaze.

When Marco looks up again he realises that Bertl is free from the group, finally, and has made his way over to him on the other side of the bar. The group is still at the counter across from Marco, though, doing more shots, and so Marco can keep an eye on the gorgeous blond (his new nickname for the stranger) as Bertl comes up and starts a conversation with him – telling him some of the stuff Annie has already told him, and some new information, like how the gorgeous blond and brunet came second in the quiz, and the short blond and the black-haired girl coming first, although the first place winners aren’t going to be drinking much tonight and had given their prize over to the brunette girl and the bald guy, which explains why they were so excited earlier. 

Throughout the conversation Marco keeps drinking – he’s on his third glass now, and is slowly starting to feel the effects. The groups of strangers are still at their place across the bar, still doing shots (Marco thinks they’re on their fourth round, but might be wrong), and every now and then when he looks over he catches the gorgeous blond’s eyes again. 

The first few times it happens Marco glances away again, shy, but after awhile, as the liquid courage kicks in, he starts to share looks with the stranger for longer, even going so far as to smile at him.

It’s a shy smile, sure – full of uncertainty and apprehension. The smirk he gets back is breathtaking, and he’s disappointed when the man turns away from Marco to talk to Annie, until the man points at Marco, and Annie looks over at him, too.

Marco ducks, face red, and a moment later Annie has moved across the bar towards him.

“Hey, hot stuff.”

A shot glass is put in front of Marco. He looks up at Annie, stunned and questioning. A small smirk is on her usually emotionless face.

“The guy you’ve been eyeing since you got here wants you to join him for a drink.”

* * *

Okay. So the hot freckled guy from the bus was here tonight. And he was looking _way_ hotter than normal, wearing chinos, a striped shirt, and denim over shirt – way more appealing than the baggy hoodies and jeans he generally wore on the bus. 

And the guy kept _looking_ at him. He was so fucking cute, looking up and then glancing away. His blush was visible even in the weird pink glow of the bar. 

And then the stranger looked up at him and _smiled_.

Well.

Jean couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Jean could feel the heat radiating off of Eren as his friend leaned closer to him. “Are you checking out the guy across the bar?” Eren asks, and Jean can hear the smirk on his face. “I thought you said you weren’t going to hook up with anyone tonight.”

Jean shrugs, his eyes still on the stranger, his mind still reeling from that smile. And perhaps he was a bit drunker than he thought he was, because a sober Jean would have maybe thought twice about hooking up with a guy he saw every day on the bus. But drunk Jean – drunk Jean had not had sex in months, and was being given coquettish looks from across the bar by a gorgeous stranger, and... well.

If drunk Jean made any stupid decisions tonight, sober Jean would just have to deal with them in the morning.

With that in mind, he calls the bartender over. Not the tall nervous one, but the scary blonde girl that looked like she could take out anyone in this bar better than the bouncers could, if she had to. She came up to him slowly, looking half bored and half over everyone’s shit, and perches herself in front of Jean, arms folded over the counter.

“You rang?”

Jean leaned in close to her. “Can you do me a favour?”

The woman’s eyebrow twitches up minutely. “Depends what it is.”

“I’d like to buy two shots, please. And ,” Jean pointed over towards the stranger across the bar, “could you give the freckled cutie over there the second one, and tell him to meet me at one of the tables at the back?” Jean grinned. “I’d like to ask him something.”

The bartender’s eyes seemed to take on some kind of mischievous gleam. Without saying anything she pulled out two new shot glasses, placing them on the counter. “Do I get to choose the type of shots?”

Jean raises an eyebrow, vaguely surprised more than anything. “That depends what it is.”

The bartender gives him a smug look. “Go to your table, I’ll have Marco bring your drinks momentarily.”

_Marco._

Jean gets up from his barstool, waves off Eren and Sasha’s teasing comments behind him, moving directly to one of the empty tables at the back of the bar. The word plays over in his head. _Marco. Marco. His name is Marco._

It’s a perfect name.

When he gets to a table he crawls up onto one of the high chairs, thinking at the back of his mind that tall chairs and drunk people are not a good combination. He pushes a hand through his hair, hoping it looks okay, and when he looks up again the freckled cutie – _Marco_ – is walking up to him, two small glasses in hand. Jean sucks in a breath. Those chinos he’s wearing are doing fucking wonders for his legs.

Jean does his best to look cool, looking up at Marco through his eyelashes, his best smile on his face. It looks like it’s working, if the blush on the stranger’s cheeks is anything to go by.

“Thanks for joining me,” Jean says as Marco reaches the table. The other man puts their drinks down on the table, and Jean has to fight back a laugh when he looks down and realises what the bartender decided to give them – coffee liqueur, Irish cream, whipped cream. Fucking _blowjobs_. Fuck.

Marco stands before Jean awkwardly, cuffing the back of his neck with a large hand. “Uh... hi.” He finally manages, and Jean nearly dies from how fucking cute this guy is.

Jean leans over the table towards the man, cocking an eyebrow as he rests his head on one of his hands, unabashedly looking Marco up and down. The guy is filled out – broader shoulders than Jean’s, with a sturdy figure – Jean wonders if the guy works out, and what his arms and thighs might look like under his clothes.

Hopefully he can find that out tonight.

Jean lifts a hand, pointing at the drinks. “We should probably have those now, before the cream starts going weird.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, you’re right.” Marco says, still blushing. He picks up one of the shot glasses.

“Woah, hey, what are you doing?” Jean asks, reaching out to stop Marco. His hand rests of the skin of Marco’s wrist, noting when he does that Marco’s skin is warm. An electric shock goes through him at the contact.

Marco seems to have felt something too, by the way he startles, looking at Jean’s hand for a long moment before dragging his eyes up to Jean’s face. “What?” he asks, slightly choked out.

Jean laughs in reply, taking his hand back. “You can’t drink them like _that_. Haven’t you ever had a blowjob before?” 

Marco’s eyes go huge. “I – uh –”

Jean laughs. “I mean the drink.”

“Oh!” the blush on Marco’s face is so adorable. “Uh, no, I haven’t had this kind of shot before.”

Jean nods his head slowly. “Alright, let me show you how it’s done.”

Jean grabs the other shot glass left on the table, dragging it over the black tabletop towards him. When it’s directly in front of him on the table he removes his hands and puts them behind his back, leaning forwards over the drink. When his face is level with the shot he looks up to see Marco staring at him, eyes wide and pupils blown, and Jean can’t help feeling a swell of satisfaction at the sight.

But, oh, the show’s not even begun yet.

Opening his mouth, Jean leans forwards further and fits his lips over the rim of the shot glass, before rising up again, glass firmly between his lips, and bottom’s up the drink, letting the bitter liqueur slip down his throat. He makes sure to make a show of it, too, arching his back to pronounce his movements, and when he leans forwards again to place the now empty glass on the table he sees Marco watching him, slack jawed and in awe, and can’t help the satisfied smirk as he licks his lips.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Your turn.”

* * *

Marco struggles with the lock on the front door – partially because he’s drunk, the alcohol in his veins making his hands unsure and his eyes foggy, but mostly because of the warm weight against his back, the hot lips mouthing at the back of his neck. When he finally gets the door unlocked he’s panting, throwing the door open and grabbing the man behind him, pinning him to the wall inside his apartment.

This is a very different Marco from the blushing fool he was at the bar. After they’d had the shots they’d gotten to talking a bit, drank a bit more, and Marco had gotten to feel a bit more comfortable in front of the stranger, gotten to the point where he could lean in close and suggest they make the short walk back to his apartment.

The man stares up at Marco, shocked, before gasping out an exhale, a smirk forming on his face. Marco doesn’t bother returning the smile as he latches onto Jean’s neck, sucking hard and wet at his pale skin, enjoying the gasping noises Jean makes above him.

“Hey,” the man breathes after seeming to have come to his senses, pawing at Marco’s hips, “as much as I – hngh – enjoy this, mind not marking me anywhere so _visible_?”

Marco hums in reply, pulling off his neck with a wet pop. “Sorry,” when he talks, it’s husky and full of want, right up against his ear, and he enjoys the way it seems to make Jean shudder, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Please,” he responds, grabbing a fistful of Marco’s brown hair to pull his face up, smashing their lips together. Marco sighs into the kiss, quick to reciprocate as the man licks at his lips, his teeth, entwines their tongues together. 

The man gasps as Marco’s tongue licks his palate, his back arching up from against the wall. Marco takes full advantage of the movement, pressing into him as both hands go down to grab at his thighs, pulling at them until his legs are wrapped around Marco’s hips, his arms winding around his broad shoulders.

With a grunt Marco moves away from the wall, briefly pulling a hand away from Jean’s thigh to shut the door and click it locked before he’s walking them both further into the apartment, still kiss and gasping against each other’s lips. Somehow Marco manages to stumble up the stairs and into his bedroom, and even in his addled state he remembers to close the door behind him for when Bertl inevitably comes home. He drops the man in his arms down onto the bed and immediately crawls on top of him, never once breaking their kiss. The man smiles, biting at Marco’s bottom lip and he brings his hands up from around Marco’s shoulders – one going up to fist in his hair, the other coming forwards to rest on Marco’s jaw. 

Marco enjoys the feeling of his hands on him and sighs into the kiss, so into it that he doesn’t even realise until after it’s happened that the man has swung his weight from underneath him and now Marco’s on his back with the blond above him, leering down at him. Marco’s eyes go wide as he takes in the sight above him – the self-confident smile that just oozes sex appeal, golden eyes smouldering in his darkened bedroom, the tousled blonde hair lit only by the street lamp outside open blinds. 

Marco gulps involuntarily as the man slowly, _torturously_ , grinds his ass down against Marco’s cock, seeming to appreciate the stuttering breath he gets in return. With a grin he sits up to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor before he looks back down at Marco, a sly smirk forming on his handsome face.

“Like what you see?” he teases, running a hand down from his pectorals. Marco watches his hand trail down his pale torso, taking in the site of two silver studs piercing pert pink nipples, until the man’s hand rests splayed just under his navel, above his waistline where a dark blonde happy trail descending down into skinny jeans that are bulging salaciously in the front. 

Marco feels the need to touch the man straddling his lap, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness grabs him, and he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch him or not, not sure what the power dynamic is here.

As if reading his mind, the man squirms over his hips, picking up one of Marco’s limp hands to put on his own hips. “You don’t have to just look, you know.”

Marco smiles, shyly, gives out a little huff of a laugh, and as quick as his confidence left it’s back tenfold as he brings his other hand up to mirror the one on the opposite hip. His waistline is so small he could probably circle it fully with his hands if he wanted to; instead he grips bony hips and pulls them down, grinding him against his crotch. They both groan at the friction.

“Okay,” the stranger gasps out, “clothes off. Now.”

Marco grins, “don’t need to tell me twice.”

They manage to strip down to nothing in a matter of seconds. It’s not sexy or teasing in any way – in fact, Marco head-butts the man in the chin at one point and they both end up giggling like school girls for a few moments – and Marco might feel self-conscious about being naked in front of a stranger if it weren’t for the fact that they were both very inebriated, and that stranger was fucking gorgeous, and hard as a rock, and sitting on his thighs giving him the most seductive eye-fuck he has ever experienced, enjoying the way his eyes rake up and down his body hungrily.

After a few moments he finally tears his eyes back up to meet Marco’s. “Hey, you don’t mind if I-?” he gestured at his crotch.

Marco smiled, a blush forming over his cheeks, forcing himself not to downright beg for him to do whatever he wanted with his body. He manages somehow to play it cool, simply saying, “be my guest,” in a flirty tone he didn’t think he was even capable of.

“Thanks,” is all he gets before the man reached down to fist Marco’s cock, giving it a few tight strokes that makes Marco moan, finally having the friction he so craved. He could come just from this, he realises, and is disappointed when the ministrations suddenly slow down, the man’s other hand coming down to squeeze his thigh.

“Hey man, you got condoms? Lube?”

“Oh, uh.” Marco tried to break his attention away from the feeling of the warm callused hand around his cock. “Uh. In the top drawer of the side table.” 

“Thanks.” he gave him a quick grin before lifting himself off of Marco’s thighs, quickly going to retrieve a silver-foiled condom and a small bottle of lubricant, and Marco misses the warmth for the few seconds he is gone. 

“Not stingy on your lube, are you?” Jean teased as he eased himself back onto his perch on Marco’s thighs, holding an almost unused large bottle of expensive lube Marco had bought from a sex shop online a few weeks ago. 

Marco chuckled, trying not to blush, distracting himself by reaching back to secure a pillow under his head. “Honestly, I did the whole cheap lube thing when I still lived with my parents – I bought the good stuff with my first pay check when I moved in here.” He doesn’t mention that he had _accidentally_ bought a larger size than he intended to, and had been so embarrassed when he’ seen the size of the bottle that he’d almost been tempted to decant it into a smaller bottle for his night stand.

The man let out a quick bark of laugh, uncapping the bottle to squeeze some onto his fingers. “Good to know you have your priorities in order.”

“Hm,” Marco hummed in agreement, watching as he dropped the lube onto the bedspread before rubbing both hands together, getting them both covered in the slick substance. Before Marco could ask what he was planning, the stranger was reaching forwards with one hand to grip Marco’s cock, fisting it up and down as the other hand went back behind him.

“Oh-!” the man gasped out quietly above him.

Marco clicked finally at what was happening and gasped himself, half at the feeling of the stranger’s wonderful hand on him, half at the fact that _he was fingering himself on top of him_.

Fuck, but Marco was thanking every god he knew for letting him meet this man at the bar tonight.

As he pressed a finger deeper into his own ass he moved further down Marco’s legs, bringing his head down until he was eye-level with the cock before him. Marco sat up slightly, his breath going heavy at the sight of the stranger staring at his cock, licking his lips thoughtfully before looking up at Marco’s face. And, fuck, those gold eyes looking at him from around his cock was fucking sinful, Marco’s mind was going to blue-screen at any moment. 

“Mind if I-?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.

“G-go right ahead!” Marco practically whined, his hips jolting up involuntarily. His face was on _fire_ , he didn’t know if he could handle this kind of anticipation. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, fisted into the sheets besides him.

The man just grinned, and not for the first time that night seemed to know what Marco was thinking. “You can pull my hair if you want to,” he suggested, moving forwards to lick a slow line from the base of Marco’s cock to the tip, “I like it.”

“Ah- good to know,” Marco gasped, already moving a hand up to gently grasp his hair. 

The man hummed in appreciation, and without further a-do puts his lip’s around Marco’s cock, swallowing him down so quickly and so well that Marco was seeing fucking _stars_ , his vision swimming as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. He swears under his breath, his hand reflectively clamping down on the hair in his hand, pulling at it as his hips bucked up once. 

And then he realised what he just did, freaks out that he might have choked the stranger, pulling his head up again to look down at him. “Oh, fuck, sorry-” Marco starts, but the man stops him was a shake of his head, his free hand going down to Marco’s hip and squeezing it reassuringly. 

Marco swears again.

“You want me to-?” Marco bucks his hips up again, cautiously, and earns a groan from for his troubles – a groan that vibrates around his cock, causing him to throw his head back and pull more forcefully at his hair.

Marco cautiously fucks up into the stranger’s mouth, pulling his hair hard every time he made any kind of groan or hum around him – which was often. He kind of wishes he could see what he was doing behind him, could watch his fingers entering him, or even have his own fingers replace his, but for now he is fully distracted by the wet hot mouth around his cock, can barely think about anything else except how fucking good it feels, how good he feels.

The man pulls back off of Marco’s cock, licking around the sensitive head for a moment before arching up into a sitting position. Marco drops his hand from his hair, dazed and disappointed, opening eyes he didn’t realise were closed.

“Don’t look so disappointed, I’ve got something better for you,” the man says, his voice raw before he looks around the bed around them, eventually picking up the discarded condom from earlier. 

He picks up the silver foil and opens it with his teeth, and Marco wants to watch him but the way he’s lying at the foot of the bed with only one pillow under his head isn’t doing much for him. As the man pulls the condom out and positioning it over Marco’s cock, Marco feels the need to stop him. 

“Ah, wait.”

The man immediately freezes where he is, his head shooting up to look at Marco, eyebrows high and eyes wide. “Shit, sorry, was I going to fast? Do you want to stop? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Marco laughs, petting his thigh comfortingly. “No, no, sorry. I do want to continue. I just – can I move up to the head-bored? My neck is going to hurt in the morning if I keep watching you for this position.”

He stares at Marco for a long moment before he throws his head back and laughs. Marco just watches him in amusement, taking in the long slope of his neck and the way his shoulder shake with mirth.

His laughter eventually subsides, as he leans forwards on Marco’s thighs, rubbing the back of his hand against his face. “Oh, man, you’re fucking adorable,” he says, causing Marco’s chest to constrict weirdly. “But yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” he crawls off of Marco to let him reposition himself, and as he does the man leans towards the bedside table. “Hey, is it okay if I switch this light on?” he asks, gesturing to a teal lamp.

Marco blinks at him, getting comfortable against his pillows. “Huh? Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Great,” he replies, and when Marco has had a chance to get used to the sudden change in light the man is right in front of him, his eyes heavy-lidded and that sinful smirk on his lips. “I’m about to give you the best show of your life, after all, you’re going to want to be able to see it.”

“Hmm, be careful, or you’re going to give me some high expectations there,” Marco teases in return, grabbing onto his hips as he gets back into position over his thighs. The man smirks, deftly rolling the condom onto Marco’s cock and giving it a few sharp tugs to get it standing at full attention.

“Oh, I’ll live up to expectations just fine,” he purrs, leaning in close. Marco suppresses a shiver as their lips meet.

The kiss is hot and hard, and a lot sloppier than fully necessary, giving how much alcohol is in both their systems. Marco enjoys the feeling of the man’s lips against his, and his hands against his hips, his thumbs stroking soft pale skin. The man gets a grip on the base of Marco’s cock, holding it still as he lifts his hips and slowly sinks into place on it, and Marco’s breathe hitches, gasping into his mouth. 

The man pulls away from Marco as he bottom’s out, arching his back as he rises into a sitting position on top of Marco.

“Fuck,” is all Marco can get out as he watches him, his brown eyes half-lidded with blown-out pupils. He gets a smirk in reply.

Once the man is comfortable he starts to bounce on Marco’s cock – slow, shallow movements at first that become faster and harder and he goes, grinding down on Marco’s cock and rising up almost to the tip, moving forwards and back and sideways until he’s go Marco’s head hitting exactly where he wants it, guessing by the way he’s gasping out and moaning at how fucking good Marco is. And Marco’s not much better, groaning into the feeling, his hips thrusting off the bed to follow his movements, his hands on pale hips squeezing and pulling him down further, grinding them together. He can’t say anything intelligible, just making appreciative noises that seem to spur them both on even more.

“I’m so fucking close,” the man above him gasps out, tightening around Marco as he moves.

“Shit – me too,” Marco gasps out in return, his hands tightening around narrow hips, bucking up into him. He realises belatedly that he should probably help the man along, and a hand starts to move down along his hip down towards his groin, but is caught before it reaches the other man’s cock.

“Uh-uh, hold on,” he breathes out, squeezing Marco’s hand and moving it back up to his hip. “If you touch there now you’ll miss the best part of the show.”

Marco watched, confused, about to ask a question for clarification when the stranger gasped out sharply, his back arching as he comes, untouched, over Marco’s chest. 

Marco can only stare for a moment, shocked, before he finds himself climaxing suddenly into tight heat, arching up into him as he gasps out loud.

The stranger sits breathing heavily above him for a few moments more before finally falling forwards, crushing Marco underneath him. Marco lets out a sharp exhale before chuckling weakly, patting his back.

“You’re right, you were beyond expectations.” Marco says, his voice low and raspy, but only silence answers him. He cocks his head forwards, looking down at the man currently sprawled on top of him, only to find him unconscious and fast asleep.

Marco lets out a quiet snort of laughter at the sight, a small grin forming on his face as he hugs the warm body closer to himself.

* * *

Jean wakes up in the dark, a sharp pain in his temples. He groans, about to turn over in bed, when he notices a warm constricting weight over his waist, warmth against his back.

Jean frowns, cracking his eyes open. The room is dark, the only light coming from the cracks in the blinds. It takes Jean a moment but – this is not his room. Jean doesn’t have blinds, he has curtains, and this room is larger than his own, and full of books and plants, if the shadowy shapes surrounding him are anything to go by. 

There was a soft sigh behind him, and that’s when it clicks. Jean had gone home with the freckled cutie from the night before, was currently at the stranger’s house. He relaxes as he figures out where he is, settles back into the stranger’s – Marco, that was his name – warmth, trying to recall the night before. 

It was coming back to him slowly. Stumbling to the apartment while trying to make out in every alcove, against every wall along the way. Getting into the house and being pushes against the wall, then carried up the stairs (hot). Straddling Marco’s thighs and getting to blow him, getting to watch that blush on his face as it travelled down on his chest, just as freckled as his face was (very hot). Getting to ride that thick cock and watching the way Marco’s face contorted in pleasure every time Jean complimented him, every time he sunk down on him (so _fucking hot_ ).

And then...

Jean groaned into his hand. And then coming over Marco’s chest and falling asleep. On top of him. Without even getting Marco’s cock out of him first.

Jean shut his eyes, mortification washing over him. Fuck, he was such a loser. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible, and never see this freckled cutie ever again.

As slow and quietly as he could, Jean slipped from under Marco’s arm, and got out of the bed. He’s surprised to find he’s wearing his boxer briefs, not remembering having put them on the night before, and as starts searching for his clothes on the floor he notices all of his stuff had been collected and folded into a neat little pile on a chair in the corner, his wallet and phone on top of the pile. A pang of guilt – and more mortification – hits Jean as he tentatively collects his things, realising that Marco must have cleaned them both up, folded both their clothes away, and tucked Jean into bed with his boxer briefs back on. There’s even a bottle of water and two pain tablets on the bedside table, one of which Jean picks up and swallows dry, his throat feeling like sandpaper. 

Fuck. Half of Jean wants to just crawl back into bed with this impossibly perfect boy – pretend like he didn’t wake up while it was dark and instead wake up to sunlight and Marco’s voice in his ear. But the other half of him was screaming for him to get out, get out now, and pretend like none of this mortification ever happened.

The second half is of him is louder, and more convincing.

Without looking back Jean picks up his clothes and his dignity, and closes the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Some things I'd like to mention:  
> 1) Connie and Sasha cheated on the quiz and still ended up placing second-to-last.  
> 2) Marco didn't recognise Jean as being the same guy he saw on the bus that morning because it was Jean's smile that attracted Marco to him, and Jean had most definitely not been smiling on the bus.  
> 3) Having sex while drunk is kind of dubious in the consent department. Jean and Marco do, however, make a point to ask for consent throughout the night.  
> 4) I have never been drunk and have only been to bars/clubs like 3 times in my life. I REALLY hope it wasn't obvious in this chapter.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! Please feel free to kudos or bookmark or whatever, but know that comments are the best way to motivate me to finish the next chapter quicker (as long as they're nice comments and not trying to pressure me to write more). Also check out my [Tumblr](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/) for fanart and drabbles!


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